“There’s no cure for mental illness,” my psychiatrist said. A kind, patient listener with years of experience, he treated me with compassion and prescribed medication. He and my counselor got me through college without another break. It was enough.
Then in 2014, shortly after marrying the man I respected most, bipolar depression ended my career. 10 hours of sleep couldn’t cut the side effects of 150 milligrams nightly in my veins. I was too sick to teach or get pregnant safely. My dreams were dead, my future gone. I cried out to God.
That weekend, we had dinner with Paul and Julie. They understood the well of suffering in our marriage, a well where Jesus met them. They told how Julie’s symptoms improved through food cleansing, lessening her meds. They walked together with grief and hope. Could we do the same? Holy love and community supported each change. Growth circled agony, painful and slow. Digging and deepening root by root, medication became a single tool in a garden of bounty to give me room to breathe.
I didn’t find a cure. I found I could heal. There’s no quick fix, because we are worth more.
Friend, your whole self merits care and connection.
Feed your body’s soil, tend your heart’s pain, weed out what hinders and water with rest. Slow, listen, speak, and seek wisdom for your own process of healing and growth.
What’s your next step? I’m here for all of it. See the mud and muddle of my early journey on the blog, #deephealbipolar. I post weekly on Instagram and catalog gut-healing recipes on Pinterest. Monthly Joy-Seeds can support you if you ask for them, below. And if you’d like an hour of listening & questions, I offer personal coaching via Zoom at email@example.com
Welcome to the Garden! Nourished, you will grow.
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